


Newt in New York

by silvertonedwords (emily31594)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 22:46:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17754935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emily31594/pseuds/silvertonedwords
Summary: What if Newt had made it back to New York City a few weeks before the Crimes of Grindelwald, with a copy of his book in hand and absolutely no idea that Tina thinks he's engage to Leta Lestrange?





	Newt in New York

Tina’s gotten her hair cut. Her coat isn’t the same, either. Darker, heavier, made of leather. 

She’s still wonderfully familiar. No, that isn’t the word. Is there a word for knowing someone briefly in person, and growing closer and closer in writing, and finally seeing them again?

Newt decides that there should be, because he feels a pull stronger even than what he’d felt on the docks, as though he’s seeing both her and each word that she’s written him in the past months. 

Each word that she used to write, until she stopped a month ago.

She stands on a street corner, waiting for cars to pass as she exits MACUSA onto a side street.

He takes a breath to call her name.

"Watch where you're going!"

"Sorry," Newt glances at the back of the man who'd run into him, gripping his case tightly.

"Newt."

Newt looks up. Tina. She'd heard his voice. He stares into her eyes, and is lost.

She takes a halting step closer.

"Tina," he says. It's a relief to voice her name.

She looks down, clearing her throat. "What are you doing in New York, Mr. Scamander?"

He nearly flinches. His name is an angry, hurt word on her lips. Why? Is she...has she decided he's not...he's been to rambling in his letters, too--too muddled. Does she not know how much he-that he-

What had he said in the last one?  _The thing is, I usually find people so difficult to talk to. Or write to. But sometimes the littlest thing happens, and I pick up a quill to tell you about it, and it’s so easy to do that I hardly notice. It’s quite strange._

The Auror Department had also been meddling in Beast Division matters again the last time he wrote her.  _A bunch of careerist hypocrites._  

“I, erm—“ Had Tina thought—but he hadn’t meant  _her._ If she would just let him  _explain_  that she’s different _._ She’s always been different, ever since MACUSA threw them into that cell together. 

Her pain about his creatures, her tears when Graves had sentenced them, her shaking voice as she called the executioners by name, the peace in her eyes in watching memories of her parents, her fierce defense of Credence. Usually, the better he knows people, the less he likes them. The more blinkered they seem. But every minute he’s spent getting to know Tina, he likes her more.

Merlin’s Beard, why couldn’t he have said that in the letter? Or complimented her eyes?

He fumbles inside his pocket and produces a copy of  _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._ He holds it out to her wordlessly.

She stares into his eyes. Hers are glassy. He swallows, and looks down. “I should’ve written to tell you that I was coming, I know, but—“ He trails off. He has no excuse. He hadn’t know, with her silence, what he should say.

She looks into the distance, at the men and women traveling home around them. “It’s been quite the sensation since it was released.”

“Yes, er—I know—“ he agrees uncomfortably. The book is an awkward weight in his hand.

Her fingers finally close around it, and draw it away. “You didn’t have to, you know.”

He glances at her as the weight of the book leaves him. Had he misunderstood, somehow, on the docks? And her letters, before—they’d all but invited him, hadn’t they?  _I’ll show you the next time you’re in New York_ and  _Fall is a much nicer time in the City than winter._ She doesn’t seem unhappy to see him, though. Not exactly.

She slides a palm across the cover. “It was wonderful.”

He deflates at first to find his gift unnecessary, then warms at the idea that Tina’s already read it. “You bought it?” He looks up, and when their eyes meet, electricity jolts through him. 

She nods, and looks down. “Weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it sooner. The Ministry denied my travel permits, you see, and they only just—“

“Did Leta come with you to New York, then?”

“Leta? No, no Leta’s in London with Theseus. My brother. The officials mistook me for him at MACUSA briefly, though I’m not sure you’d remember, what with all the—”

“They must have a lot to prepare for the wedding.”

“Yes, I think. They do.”

She nods, eyes sliding from his. “Thank you for the book, Mr. Scamander.” She blinks. “It was nice to see you again.” Her voice breaks over the words, and she turns to walk away.

“Tina. Tina?” He comes to a halt. He should leave her alone. Should he? If she doesn’t want him around anymore, then—but he has to at least try to explain. Make sure she knows how much he—if he has any chance--

He follows. “Tina? Tina.”

She spins around.

“Look, I know that in my last letter, what I said about aurors—“

“Mr. Scamander, I should get home. I have files to go over for work. Even though I know you think my work is—“

“About that.” He frowns. “Aurors are—they can be—but I didn’t mean that  _you_ were—“

She blinks, and a tear falls from one eye. He stares. She swipes it away almost angrily. “I care about my job, Newt, but I’m not a hypocrite.”

He blinks. The words had sounded more like a question than a statement.  And she’d said his name. “I don’t think that you are.”

She presses her eyes shut and opens them slowly, her face drawn.

“Tina, is everything alright?”

“Queenie’s—she’s—and Jacob—“

“Jacob? But he was supposed to have been obliviated.”

She laughs, a harsh sound. “It didn’t work. Queenie went back to see him and he remembered. They’d been seeing each other for months in secret before I found out.” She swallows, glancing up at him, and his heart pounds. “I told her it was a bad idea. Against the law. They’d throw her in prison if they found out. Obliviate him. What kind of life would that be for—Anyway, she didn’t care for it. We haven’t spoken in weeks.”

“Oh, Tina.” He takes her hand. She stares at the place where their palms touch. Her fingers brush his skin. He presses his eyes shut. It’s almost too much. His letter, he realizes, eyes flying open. “I didn’t know…” How much he’d strike a chord.

She looks down, taking a breath as though to steel herself for something, and pulls her hand away. “You and Queenie both said the same thing to me, really.  _An auror first_.” And Newt senses she’s quoting her sister’s words.

He tries to think of what to say. Mostly he just wants to hold her hand. Touch the mark on her lower lip where her teeth have worried the skin.  _Merlin,_  Newt. He wishes he could understand, but she’s being so confusing. Speaking to him, and touching him, and pulling away.

Tina clears her throat, looking down, then back at him with determined eyes. “But that’s enough about me, Mr. Scamander. I haven’t congratulated you.”

“On the book? Yes, it’s done quite well. Though I’m not certain that I’ve enjoyed all of the press.”

“No I meant—“ she seems to gather herself, taking a deep breath and looking up, “—on the wedding.”

“Er—thank you.” When he glances at her, she’s biting her lip. “Although being best man may not turn out to be that much better than book signings.”

“Will you— _what?”_ Her voice is high, breaking.

“Theseus decided that I should be best man. Hilarious, really, if you think about it.”

“ _Theseus.”_

“Yes, as I’m his only brother, he says. Don’t know why he couldn’t find a mate from school who would actually enjoy it.”

“But—“ Tina steps closer, until he can see every flicker of light in her eyes. Merlin, he could stare at them forever. “Newt, did your publisher send you to New York?”

“My publisher? No.” He stares at her, perplexed.

“Then why—“

“Tina I—“ he swallows, forcing himself to say the words. If she’s not—then he’ll leave, and all those things he wants to tell her every day…he can simply tell his creatures, like he always does. He hadn’t wanted to be close to another person again after Leta. And he doesn’t miss it. Most of the time. Some of the time. Intimacy with humans is for other people, not for him. 

Except when he’s holding that photograph that he tore from the paper, and wishing that the newsprint didn’t flatten the fire in her eyes. (Wishing that it were really her.) Newt stares at her, forcing himself to hold her gaze. “I came here to see you.”

She looks up and stares. Tears glisten in her eyes just short of falling. He frowns. Why can’t he ever explain himself clearly? “You—“ she breathes. “You’re not marrying Leta?”

“What? No, of course not. She’s marrying Theseus. Why would you think that?”

Tina shakes her head, and he almost thinks he can spot a flush of color on her cheeks. “Queenie gets this magazine. It had an article. A photograph of her at one of your book signings. It talked about the engagement ring. The kind of house you were going to live in. I overheard you and Queenie talking about her picture, last winter, and I thought—“ Tina shakes her head. “You’re alright with it?”

“Of course. They’re happy. They suit each other. And I’m—I have…” She looks warm, hopeful, a smile tugging free from her lips. And she’s so very close to him. She’d thought he was marrying Leta. Does that mean that she still—He feels like he’s flying on a hippogriff. Or perhaps watching a dragon egg hatch. It’s made her happy. He’s made her happy. Newt stares at her eyes. Breathtaking. “Your eyes really are—“

Tina tilts her head, leaning closer.

“I read your book in one night—“

“I have a picture of you, and—You did?” he breathes.

“You—“ she gasps.

They stare at each other, and he pushes on, reaching into his coat pocket for the photograph. “It’s—it’s just a picture from the paper, but—“ He swallows, trying to catch his breath for the intensity of her stare. “It’s interesting, because your eyes in newsprint. See, in reality, they have this effect to them, Tina. It’s like fire in water, in dark water. And I’ve only ever seen that—I’ve only ever seen that in—“

“Salamanders.”

Newt stares. She’s--she’s--Slowly, they smile at each other.

“Newt, your last letter…”

“Yes. Sorry. I don’t think you’re—you’re not.” He sighs, frustrated with his own clumsy words. “You’re wonderful.”

She shakes her head, smiling still. “No it’s—wanting to tell me about little things. Things that shouldn’t matter.” Newt glances at her. “I’ve often thought the same.”

“Oh.” A smile tugs at his lips.

“I only stopped writing because I thought that you and Leta…”

Newt shakes his head and laughs, a soft, uncertain thing, tears filling the corners of his eyes. 

“What?”

“It’s just that I’ve been mistaken for Theseus before but…never quite like this.”

She smiles tremulously. 

The wind pushes a lock of hair into her face. He reaches with a steady hand, his chest warm and tight, and watches the dark hair curl against his fingers as he lifts it from her cheek.

Her smile has morphed into something more serious, but no less tender. “Tell me about Queenie?” He offers. “Only if you want.”

“I was about to go for a walk. Would you like to join me?”

Newt opens his mouth to agree.

She nods toward his left arm. “— _only_ if you’ve replaced the locks on that case.”

It takes him a moment to see the glint in her eye, and hear the hint of a smile in her voice. “Yes, definitely. Promise.”

Tina stares at him, and her hand moves slowly, purposefully, until it brushes his coat, plucking off a tuft of dark fur.

“The niffler,” he says with a sigh.

She shakes her head, and he soaks in  _being_  here. Her voice, and her eyes, and the tangible warmth of her presence. The letters had been wonderful, like reading books and field notes about a new creature, but this, he thinks, like seeing that creature in the wild, this is so much better.


End file.
